


every day i pass your face (just a stranger i can't replace)

by mystarsandmyocean



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Reincarnation, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystarsandmyocean/pseuds/mystarsandmyocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was giving them - all of them - a second chance.  Whatever the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every day i pass your face (just a stranger i can't replace)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [effie214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effie214/gifts).



“So they don’t remember _him_?  Being the Arrow?  Working with him?”

 

“No, dad.  They don’t remember any of it.  It’s like they – we – never met.”

 

“So what are you asking, sweetheart?”

 

“Don’t remind him – about me or the island.  Get her away from anyone who’d remind her.”

 

“Okay.  Okay.  We could use a new computer expert around here anyways; my boys know to keep their mouths shut.  What about the other two?  You got plans for them?”

 

“They’re – handled.  You know what to do if you come into contact with any of them.”

 

“Pretend we’ve never met.  That’s going to be a little easier said that done.  You sure you know what you’re doing, Sara?”

 

“I’m doing the right thing.”

 

She was giving them – all of them – a second chance.  Whatever the price.   

 

\---

 

Oliver grimaced, the latte cloying and sweet on his tongue. 

 

Everyday, he ordered the same coffee.  Everyday, he regretted that decision, loathing the taste. 

 

But – _not_ ordering it, walking straight past the coffee shop at 33 rd and Main – sent his entire body into rebellion, his stomach coiling in pain.  Yesterday, he’d nearly succeeded, reminding himself how much he hated vanilla, how much time and coffee he was wasting, except –

 

Except he’d seen a flash of blonde hair in the window, tugged back into a familiar ponytail (except he didn’t _know_ any blondes, not since Sara and the boat and the island he couldn’t quite remember; except Sara had never worn ponytails, preferring her hair wavy and loose –  

 

_“I dye it actually.  I keep your secret!”_ )

 

He’d pivoted, hurrying inside, desperate for a better look, his heart stuttering even without the caffeine.  Craning his neck over the line, grateful to tower over the crowd, he’d scanned the shop, his thumb digging into his forefinger, his mouth running dry. 

 

That same flash of blonde, the bells of the backdoor tinkling overhead. 

 

He’d missed her.  Whoever _she_ was. 

 

_“If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving.”_

 

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Oliver had slumped, shuffling back into the line. 

 

Another latte, another day. 

 

_“When you are there, it just made me realize how much I need you here.”_

 

(Try as he might, he never could remember breaking the coffee machine in his office).  

 

\---

 

John Diggle took the long way home from work that morning. 

 

He didn’t particularly love his work as a bodyguard – serving men and women who could do so much _more_ with their lives, in the same profession that had murdered his brother – but between him and Lyla, one of them needed to be home for their son. 

 

And between him and Lyla, he had no faith in Amanda Waller and what she’d have – or had – ARGUS do.  He still remembers her smile, the appraisal in her eyes; when she’d scanned her eyes over him, _assessing_ him, a weight had coiled and settled in his stomach, remaining with him ever since.  He would leave the soldiering to Lyla, his partner, his lover, his no longer ex-wife. 

 

(Though, some days, he’s thought _brother_ without Andy’s face flashing through his mind.  A brother-in-arms, _that_ , he would strive for.  Might even miss).

 

Turning his car past another abandoned alley – ruined by the earthquake or by those madmen, he couldn’t tell – he shook his head at the parasite that perched in the endurance and bare bones of the Glades. 

 

_Verdant_. 

 

He passed it every day.  Never could justify why. 

 

Just another billionaire wasting his money and time.  Another carcass on which the rich fed, while the poor looked on, gentrification at its finest.

 

_“I was wondering when we would get to that. A white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised.  And all by his lonesome with no help from anybody.”_

 

He pressed down on the gas, pulling away from the club, popular enough for participants to still be stumbling out at this early hour.  Lyla and Andy were waiting for him.

 

He had no business here.   

_“I can’t let you do this by yourself, man.  A soldier never lets a brother go into battle alone.”_

 

\---

 

“I heard he’s got a kid squired away; it wasn’t an island at all.”

 

Felicity raised the volume of her music, striving for that perfect balance between ‘drowning out the sycophants’ and ‘able to hear the Captain calling’ (The Captain’s feelings, after all, were hardly a state secret.  Even if his daughter hadn’t really died.  Drowned.  Not really the point.).

 

“Nah, you think he’d stay away for a kid?  It’s got to be a woman.” 

 

She swiped her thumb, the volume increasing. 

 

Guffaws interrupted her Madonna playlist. “Maybe it was an island full of women.”  The self-satisfied smack of high-fives followed; it was like she’d never left high school.

 

_“How many women were you marooned with? Are you sure this wasn’t fantasy island?”_

 

Felicity flinched, tearing her headphones from her ears.  Whirling in her chair, she scowled at the lot of them – seriously, couldn’t they gossip _anywhere else_ in the precinct – narrowing her eyes. 

 

“Oliver Queen was _marooned_ on an _island_ ,” she lectured, Loud Voice in full force, “And just spent a month in Europe looking for his _sister_ , who is _still_ missing.  In fact, didn’t Captain Lance assign you to her case, Officer Blake?”  The officer in question jerked back, scowling; _good_ , he was an unrepentant ass who insisted on investigating the Harper kid, despite the lack of evidence and, well, her _feeling_ that the break-up letter had been genuine.  Lance had given Blake night shifts for a month after he’d commented on her feminine wiles making judgment calls; she’d nearly ruined his credit score before wondering when exactly hacking had become her first revenge instinct. 

 

Standing up, and very grateful that she’d worn heels that day, she continued, “Are you all so involved with yourselves that you can’t respect the trauma that man has _obviously_ been through or are you being oblivious on purpose?”

 

_“It seems to me, whoever he is, he’s willing to sacrifice an awful lot to help the people of this city.”_

 

“Well, we all know _your_ opinion on Oliver Queen – ” Upton sneered, hunching forward; she really needed to talk to the Captain about when her office would be ready because being stuck next to these three was making her regret signing on with the force in the first place –

 

“Blake!” Lance barked, interrupting whatever opinion Felicity supposedly had on Oliver Queen – and what, exactly,  _that_  was supposed to mean, she couldn’t say – “Upton!  Jimenez!  My office, now!”

 

The three officers paled, jumped to attention, and slinked away; Felicity sighed in relief.  Good riddance.  

 

“Ms. Smoak,” Lance called, leaning against his office door, “Detective Hall was hoping for some help with transmitter bugs, think you can do something about it?”

 

Scrambling for her tablet, Felicity flashed him a thumbs up.  “You got it, Captain!  I’m your girl!”  Halfway across the floor, she pivoted, her mind catching up with her mouth, a flush already rising.  “I mean, not your _girl-_ girl, that wasn’t me making a move on you –”

 

“Understood, Ms. Smoak.”  The Captain’s lips curled into what could be mistaken for a smile, his head dipping into a nod.  He was always so nice to her, ever since the day he’d called and offered her the position (And it was funny, wasn’t it, how she didn’t even remember applying?).

 

He was a good man, Captain Lance.

 

She smiled back at him before turning away, shifting her attention to her tablet and Detective Hall, far away from Oliver Queen. 

 

_“I’m just – used to being your girl.”_

_“You will always be my girl, Felicity.”_

 

It wasn't like she knew him - _or_ anything even about him - anyways.

 

_"You are not alone.  And I believe in you."_     


End file.
